Ransom

“Looks like a car caught fire, and the gas tank must have exploded,” Fernanda explained sensibly. The excitement was almost over. But there were police and firemen everywhere, as the captain got out of his car.

“Maybe it was a car bomb,” Will said with interest as they stood outside, and eventually they went back into the house, while Sam complained. He wanted to see the fire trucks, but the police weren't letting anyone near the scene. There were a flock of cops down the block, circling the scene, and more still arriving. A car in flames didn't seem to warrant that much attention, but there was no denying the explosion had sounded impressive. She had jumped about a foot when it happened.

“I don't think it was a car bomb,” Fernanda commented, once they were back in the house. “I think a gas tank exploding would make a pretty big bang. It was probably burning for a while, and no one noticed.”

“Why would a car catch fire?” Ashley added, looking puzzled. It seemed dumb to her, but had sounded scary anyway.

“It happens. Maybe someone dropped a cigarette and didn't see it. Something like that. Maybe vandalism,” although that seemed unlikely. Particularly in their neighborhood. Fernanda didn't know what else to suggest to explain it.

“I still think it was a car bomb,” Will said, delighted to be distracted from his science project. He hated doing it, and any excuse to avoid it was valid, especially a car bomb.

“You play too much Nintendo,” Ashley said to Will with a look of disgust. “No one blows up cars, except in movies or on TV.”

They all went back to their respective activities then. Fernanda continued her tax work for her attorney, Jack Waterman. And as he left the room, Will said he couldn't finish his project without more copper wire, which they didn't have, and his mother promised to get him more on Monday. And Ashley sat with Sam, watching the end of the video with him. It was another two hours before the last of the police cars left, and the fire trucks left long before that. Everything was peaceful again, as Fernanda cooked dinner for them. She was just putting the dishes in the dishwasher when the doorbell rang. She hesitated at the front door, looked through the peephole, and saw two men standing outside, talking to each other. She'd never seen them before. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and her hands were wet when she asked who it was through the door. They said they were police officers, but they didn't look like it to her. Neither was in uniform, and she was thinking about not opening the door, when one of them held his badge up to the peephole so she could see it. She opened cautiously and looked at them. They both looked respectable, and apologized for disturbing her, as she stood looking at them in confusion.

“Is something wrong?” It didn't occur to her at first that their visit had anything to do with the car they'd seen burning that afternoon, or the explosion they'd heard when the gas tank must have exploded. She couldn't imagine why they had come to see her. And for a moment it reminded her of the agonizing days after Allan's death, dealing with the authorities in Mexico.

“We were wondering if we could talk to you for a minute.” They were two plainclothes officers, one Asian, and the other Caucasian. They were both nicely dressed men somewhere in their forties, wearing sport coats, shirts, and ties. They said they were Detectives Lee and Stone, and handed her their cards, as they stood in the front hall, talking to her. There was nothing ominous about them, and the Asian man looked at her and smiled. “We didn't mean to frighten you, ma'am. There was an incident up the street from you this afternoon. If you were home, you probably heard it.” He was pleasant and polite and put her instantly at ease.

“Yes, we did. It looked like a car caught fire, and I assumed the gas tank exploded.”

“That's a reasonable assumption,” Detective Lee volunteered. He was watching her, as though looking for something. There was something about her that seemed to intrigue him. The other detective said nothing. He let his partner take the lead.

“Do you want to come in?” Fernanda asked. It was obvious that they weren't ready to leave yet.

“Would you mind? We'll only take a minute.” She walked them into the kitchen, and found her sandals under the kitchen table. They looked so respectable, she was embarrassed to stand there talking to them barefoot.

“Would you like to sit down?” She waved at the kitchen table, which was almost cleared. She used the sponge to get off the rest of the crumbs, tossed it into the sink, and then sat down with them. “What happened?”